Death in Paradise (2011–…): Season 1, Episode 5 - Episode #1.5 - full transcript

Prisoner Leon Hamilton is being escorted by ferry to Sainte Marie when he is stabbed to death, an embarrassment to Poole, who was hand-cuffed to him at the time. Hamilton was convicted of a holiday home scam and two of the passengers on the ferry, whodunnit fan and grand-daughter of investors, Suzie Park, and thuggish Sam King, an associate of another victim Gordon Foster, whose wife left him after his ruination, would seem to be likely suspects - until Poole uncovers a cunning identity swap.

Are you wondering how healthy the food you are eating is? Check it -
Detective Inspector Poole. I take it
you're here for me. Very good.

What gave us away?

Well, unless you're on
some weird stag do...

Vincent Carter.
This is the prisoner, Leon Hamilton.

He is officially now
in your custody...

but I have been given orders
to escort you to Saint-Marie.

Thank you, Vincent.

Mr Hamilton,
you understand that, on arrival,

we take you to Saint-Marie
Jail where you'll

serve the remainder
of your sentence.


After you.

So, you've been to Saint-Marie

Not that you'll see much of it
from inside the prison.

Perhaps when you get out.

I suppose I ought to make the best
of the view while I still can.

Good book? Not really.

I think Agatha Christie's my favourite.
Murder on the Orient Express.

Now that was a good book,

unlike this,
where the murder victim died

actually clutching a photograph
of his killer.

From what I've read so far,

this case could only
have been easier

if the murderer had "Yes, I did it"
tattooed on his forehead.

Then you wouldn't need
a murder detective at all.

A trained chimp would suffice.

"Inspector Bubbles of the Yard".
Got a ring to it.

I do love a good murder.

It's always a bit rough
when we leave the

harbour, just until we
get round the point.

I'm sorry, but do you
think I could stretch

my legs for a bit?
Get some fresh air?

Do you have to?
I really don't feel too good.

Very well.

Everything OK?

He wants to stretch his legs
for a bit.

I'll come with you.

Do you think you'll be sick?

A warning would be appreciated
if you do.

Just so that I can take
wind direction into account,

take evasive action.

I can't say I blame you.

Excuse me!

Never liked waves,

not since a family holiday to
the Isle of Wight when I was nine.

That was a ferry.

The "SS Vomit"
I think it was called.

There we go! Sorry, probably not
helping, is it? All this talk...


Nobody move! Vincent!

What happened?

Leon Hamilton, the prisoner.
I'm afraid we lost him.

He got away?

No. "Lost him" as in...

you know, dead.

What was it? A heart attack?

While he was still handcuffed
to you? That's terrible!

No, it wasn't a heart attack.
He was more...

murdered. Stabbed, to be precise.

Wait, wait! Someone murdered him when
he was still handcuffed to you?!

I want a full passenger list.
Background checks,

see if you can find any
link with the deceased.

Don't forget the ferry crew.
And you didn't see who it was?

I looked away for one second.

What? Nothing.
You think it's amusing? No.

Have you called
the commissioner yet? No, why?

He asked you to collect
the prisoner in

person to ensure the
transfer went smoothly.

Yeah. Well, it didn't, did it?

Go smoothly? No.

Do you want me to come with you?
I'm not a child!


Have you any idea

how much paperwork
this will generate?

What on earth were you doing?

How can someone murder the person
standing next to you,

and you not even notice?

I mean, it should be funny.

It sounds funny. They're laughing
at Government House,

laughing when they see me.

But I'm not laughing.

I've been lobbying for months
to bring Leon Hamilton

to Saint-Marie
to finish his sentence.

I even sent my most senior officer
to go and collect him.

Do you know why I sent you,

Well, I...

I sent you because I wanted
the transfer to go smoothly...

without incident.

Why? Because I couldn't imagine
how embarrassing it would be

should he escape whilst in the custody
of the Saint-Marie police force.

Look, I had...

A concern
that pales into insignificance

now that he's been murdered

whilst handcuffed
to one of our murder detectives!

Where were you?

The sea was rough around the point.
It happened so fast.

I've spoken to your superiors.

You will stay on the island
until I release you.

Sir, I... It isn't a request.

They're arranging
some accommodation for you,

and I want a report on my desk
by first thing in the morning. Sir.

Now get out of my sight!

It wasn't his fault, sir.
The prisoner was in my custody.

I'd say that's hardly
something to be proud of, Inspector.

I could understand
if he was secretly poisoned,

in fact, secretly anything!

I could even forgive a gunshot
from another boat,

or a jet ski or a helicopter.

But no, a knife
was plunged into his back

while you were standing
next to him, joined at the wrists!

Sir. Sir.


Are you OK?

The commissioner and I
had a frank exchange of views,

and it was decided I hadn't exactly
covered myself in glory

as far as the prisoner's transfer
was concerned.

I wholeheartedly agreed with him,

and suggested I be shipped
back to London in disgrace.

He refused, but it was worth a try.


as I'm still stuck here,

I intend to find the person
who murdered Leon Hamilton...

who caused me
no little embarrassment

if it's the last thing I ever do.

In fact, to coin a phrase,

"this time it's personal".

Where is the bin?

There is never a bin!

Thank you.

I spoke to the coroner,
he'll do the autopsy later,

but it looks like a single knife wound,
entry point under the shoulder blade.

Then it must have pierced the heart in
order for death to be instantaneous.

And you think it was? Instantaneous?

I may have missed the actual blow,

but I think I'd have noticed
if he'd started screaming

and clutching at his back. Sorry

Right. What about the passengers?

We've got witness statements,

but it will take a while
to cross-check them.

Right, you get onto that. Fidel, I
want Leon Hamilton's file sent over.

I want to know details
of his circle.

Business associates, lovers,
jealous siblings,

anyone who may have had a reason
to kill him.

I also want the autopsy
report and any forensics on

the murder weapon on my desk
the second they're done.

Yes, sir.

So where do we start? Well, means
and opportunity are self-evident,

so the key has to be motive.

Who wanted Leon Hamilton dead?

He's dead.

And you owe me fifty grand.

There were 180 passengers.
We can maybe discount 50 of those.


We have witness
statements placing them

either in the inside
section or in a group.

That still leaves 130 suspects.
And none of them saw anything?

The ferry captain also said you

were only about a mile
away from the coast

when the victim was found dead.

Meaning someone could have
swum to shore after the murder.

So we can't even be sure
that the killer was

still on the ferry when
you got to Saint-Marie?

If you're looking at suspects, I
think I can add some names. How many?

Just about... 900.

Well, it's hardly my idea
of a luxury resort.

A tad underdeveloped, you might say.

What actually happened?

About two years ago,
hundreds of people

on the island invested
in Paradise Beach.

When it went under,
they all lost their money.

It was worse than that.

Small businesses put
their money in, hoping

to get the catering and
cleaning contracts.

Other people
put their pension funds in.

It destroyed a lot of lives.

That's terrible.

The construction company
was based in Guadeloupe.

Leon Hamilton was charged with
embezzlement and false accounting.

That's why the commissioner wanted
him to finish his sentence here.

So that justice
could be seen to be done. Yes.

The commissioner's name
is on here, too.

So he knew Leon Hamilton?

I doubt it. But officially...

if the commissioner lost money,
does that make him a suspect?

I imagine it does.

Who wants to be the first
to interview him?


Right, well, let's cross him off
for now, shall we?

So we've got a man
murdered in broad daylight

while handcuffed to
a police officer,

just over a thousand suspects,
and it's a hundred degrees.


That's odd.

It says here Leon Hamilton was
a keen sailor, had his own yacht.

Is that important?

It was a bit rough as
we left the harbour,

and he complained
of feeling sick.

Why would he feel seasick
if he was an experienced sailor?

Did he actually say
he was seasick?


Then it could have been
something else. I suppose so.

Fidel, tell them I want
a toxicology report on the victim,

just to be on the safe side.
Yes, sir.

I have a woman here who said she
spoke to the officer on the ferry.

They talked about the book
he was reading?

Yep, that was before
we went outside.

Said she loved a good murder.

Suzie Park?

On her way to visit grandparents
in Saint-Marie.

Check to see if her grandparents
are on the investors list.

In fact, we should check everyone
on the passengers list

against the investors list.

OK, I know this guy. Who?

Samuel King. Yes?
He's bad news. Violent?

Very. Put him on the A pile.

Thank you.

Leon Hamilton's wife is flying in
from Guadeloupe tomorrow morning

to formally identify the body.
OK, go and meet her.

See if you can get her story
while you're at it.

OK. It's late.

We should call it a day.

How was your day?

That bad?

Although I'm assuming
no-one actually died.

Which means
I almost certainly have you beat.


Morning, sir.

Thank you.
Have a good day.

OK, thank you, sir,
we have your details. Thank you.

That's the third one this week. What?

An old beggar woman. She stops
tourists by asking them for money.

When they take out their wallet
or purse, she snatches it and runs.

Morning, team. Morning, sir. Chief.
Where were you last night?

Yes, sorry,
I went straight home.

Thought I'd finish these.

And? Hopeless.

The ferry was bound for Saint-Marie,
so virtually everyone on it

knew someone who'd lost money
on the Paradise Beach complex.

The autopsy and toxicology reports
are done, but their e-mail is down.

They'll phone them through.
OK. Dwayne and Fidel,

start rounding up
everyone on our A list.

Let's eliminate who we can.

Yes, Chief.

Let's find out if there were any
bigger investors in Paradise Beach,

anyone who lost enough money
to want to kill Leon Hamilton.

We've got details of the bank. I'll
call them on my way to the airport.

Airport? Mrs Hamilton is coming
to identify her husband's body.

Remember? Yes. Sorry.

That should be the autopsy.


Put it on speaker phone.
DI Richard Poole.

Yes, the birthday card
came yesterday

and the parcel came this morning.
Thank you.

No, always good to send separately,
just in case.

Yep. Yep.
Listen, Mum, I'm actually at work

and, I'm about to go into a
meeting, so could we do this later?

Yep. Thanks again.

You too, yep. Bye.


It's your birthday, sir?

Yes. Today? Yes.

Happy birthday. Happy birthday, sir.
Thank you. So, how old are you?

None of your business how old I am.

Would everybody please
get on with their tasks?


Thank you.

That can't have been easy.

He looked so...


I'm sorry.

That's a stupid thing to say. No.

What did I expect?

He was hardly going to be
tap dancing, was he?

It's just that...

I've never seen a dead body before.

Have you any family here?

Someone who can be with you?

It's just us.

Me. No.

You must have loved him very much.


If you're ready,
I can take you to your hotel?

I'm ready. Thank you.

This is terribly exciting.

I just need enough information

to eliminate you from our enquiries,

Miss. Park.

Miss Park.
I love being interviewed.

Though you realise the chances it's
a member of the public are remote?

I'm sorry?

Any self-respecting
murder aficionado would know

about the Texas Institute of
Criminal Profiling research

into murder in a public place.

In 109 cases studied over 11 years,

in only 3% of single murders
committed in a public place

was the killer found
to have known the victim

or indeed had any prior contact.
I see...

67% were carried out by paid
assassins or hit men of some kind.

22% were the result of a dispute

that originated within an hour of
the murder. Can I just...

So a murder on a crowded ferry is almost
certainly the work of someone paid...

Miss Park!

Much as I appreciate
your enthusiasm,

can I just ask
a few simple questions

to establish your whereabouts?


Sorry. I got a bit excited.

No, not at all. When I took the
prisoner up to the seating area,

you came out a few moments later.


You knew I was with the prisoner?

Yes, I saw you. He was bent over.
It looked like he was being sick.

And during your time outside,
did you see anyone

with a knife, or acting
particularly suspiciously?


The boat was a bit rocky.
I was just holding on, to be honest.

Your grandparents,

they invested in the Paradise Beach
complex a few years ago. Yes?

You weren't aware the prisoner
was Leon Hamilton,

the man convicted of fraud
when it went bust? No, I wasn't.

You didn't know?

No. But if I had,
I'd have happily murdered him.

He took everything my grandparents
had, every last penny.

I'm sorry.

That makes me a suspect, doesn't it?


Of course I'll make myself
completely available,

should you need me again.

Would you like my passport?

No, it's OK. Thank you for your help,
Miss Park. Have a good day.

She seemed very chirpy.

Mad as a bag of frogs.

Is that the autopsy report?

Yes, sir. Came while
you were with Miss Park.

Single wound, through the heart,
just like you said.

Anything else?
No other injuries, no.

Toxicology? All clear.

Forensics on the murder weapon is
with the report. No fingerprints.

We're checking the make of the knife
and outlets that sell it,

but it's a pretty common blade.

Thanks, Fidel. Sir.


I hoped I could spend some time in
the market today, round lunchtime.

See if I can find our beggar thief.

Beggar thief?

Yes, sir.

A woman posing as a beggar,
stealing from tourists.

I hate this kind of crime, sir.

It reflects badly on the island.

Two of the last thefts
were at lunchtime, so...

Modus operandi. Yes, sir.
Then of course you must go.


How's it going? It isn't.

Turns out he was the most
unpopular man on the island,

so I'm knee-deep in suspects.

But that's a good thing, isn't it?

No. Two or three's good,

then you can whittle away
by process of gradual elimination.

907 just muddies the waters.

What's that?

I heard it was someone's birthday.
I'm a year older.

It hardly warrants
a firework display. Take it away.

I thought you'd like it.
Well, I don't.

I came to clear my head and for
a cup of tea, so just tea, please,

without any form of
incendiary attached.

I think you might have upset her.

She's French,
it's an occupational hazard.

Sorry we're making slow progress.

You must be keen to get home.
A little.

I'll speak to the commissioner.
No point you being stuck here.

Thank you.

How well did you know Leon Hamilton?
Not that well.

I'd see him in
the association room sometimes.

But I work in admissions, so...

There are over 300 prisoners
in the jail.

Men like Leon Hamilton
tend to keep their heads down.

That's the thing, you see,
he didn't strike me as a con man.

There was no brashness.

In fact, I'd say there was a...

sadness about him.

Well, he was going
from one prison to another.


Dwayne said you were here.

Vincent, you remember
Detective Sergeant Bordey.

Hello, Vincent. You found us, then?

I suggested he came here
for his meals.

Catherine has been very thoughtful.

Yes. He has that effect
on my mother.

Do you have family, Vincent?
I'm divorced.

That's a shame.

For my bank balance, yes.

Please let me know
if there's anything I can do to help.

Au revoir, Catherine.

Au revoir, Vincent.

Got a spoon?

So, Mrs Hamilton
formally identified her husband.

She told me she has little to do
with his business,

and she was as shocked
as everyone else

when he was found guilty of fraud.

How long's she staying
on Saint-Marie?

Just long enough
to make the funeral arrangements.

Is she...

not having the body shipped home?

No, she said
he used to sail around the islands

and he loved Saint-Marie,

so she wants him cremated here.

I'm here.

Leon Hamilton told me he'd never
been to Saint-Marie before,

yet now his wife says
he often sailed here

and it was his favourite place.

Haven't you ever heard of a husband
and wife who don't communicate?

Yet add the fact that supposedly
he was an experienced sailor

who felt seasick on a ferry,

and something just doesn't add up.

Like what?

Maybe he lied to his wife
about where he'd been,

to cover up an affair.

Maybe she lied
about him loving Saint-Marie,

because their marriage was a sham

and she didn't care enough
to have him shipped home.

No, she loved him. I'm sure of it.


I talked to her.

And you can tell
whether people are in love

just by talking to them, can you?


By what they say,

their eyes,
the tone of their voice...

I find that very hard to believe.

Have you ever been in love?

This has to be connected to
Hamilton's business dealings.

Have we spoken to the bank?

No. They haven't got back to me.

Then let's start there.

What about Samuel King's statement?

Anything of interest?

He's been around long enough
not to give too much away.

I asked him why he was on the ferry.

He said he was sightseeing.

He denies knowing the victim.

But you don't believe him?

The thing is, I saw him at the bar
paying for his coffee.

He had a wad of notes
big enough to choke a donkey.

Did you ask him about it?
He said he sold an old car.

But? He couldn't remember
what kind of car it was,

whose name it was registered in,
or who he sold it to.

I could bring him in.

A criminal with a wad of cash
isn't going to be honest

about how he got it, is he?

That doesn't make him a murderer.

I'm supposed to be at the bank.

I don't believe it! I was so close!

The beggar thief struck in the market

She got a purse.
You got outrun by a little old lady?

She disappeared down an alley, so...

The shame of it.

Maybe next time, you try
and catch her. OK, see you later.

Wait, wait. What are we doing
for the Chief's birthday?

I don't think he's keen
on surprises.

We have to do something!

You could run down and get a cake.
You think?

No, on second thoughts, wait till
we catch your little old lady.

We'll send her. She'll be quicker.

I'm sorry to interrupt your break.

You don't want bank coffee,
believe me. Please.

Thank you. Bonjour.

Cappuccino, please. Two.

Water for me. Thank you.

When Leon Hamilton
put his company into liquidation

and his creditors were notified,

it was soon clear none of
his suppliers had been paid,

even though the company accounts
showed they had.

False accounting? Yes.

That's when we called the police.
How much money?

Close to 2 million
is still unaccounted for.

Our investigators tried to track it
down but it was transferred overseas.

They got as far as Miami,
and then lost it.

We think it's in Europe somewhere.
So Paradise Beach was a scam?

Essentially, yes. He raised almost
a million from private investors

and took a loan from us for the rest.
And the loan was unsecured?

It was secured against the land,

but it now seems that
the land was virtually worthless.

Anything he built there would have
fallen into the sea within a year.

He'd falsified surveyors' reports.

Were there any larger investors?
Anyone who took a real hit?

The largest single investor
after the bank

was a local businessman,
Gordon Foster.

He attended Leon Hamilton's trial.

Got thrown out for shouting abuse
at the defendant.

So he's a man with a grudge.

He lost 300,000. Wouldn't you be?

I've brought statements
from all the relevant accounts.

That's Gordon's.

Mr Foster?

Detective Inspector Richard Poole.

This is Detective Sergeant Bordey.
May we join you? Be my guest.

How can I help?

We'd like to talk to you
about Leon Hamilton.

There's not much to say.

He was a con man
and deserved all he got.

You're saying he deserved to die?

I meant prison.

Though there was a time when I'd have
gladly strangled him with my bare hands.

That's a figure of speech.

How well did you know him?
Hardly at all.

He was a bit of a recluse. I had
one meeting to listen to his pitch

telling me how much money
I was going to make,

and another to sign a contract.

In Saint-Marie?
No. I had to fly to Guadeloupe.

He talked about opening an office
here, but it never happened.

Now I know why.

And the next time you saw him
was in court?

Yes. Where you threatened him?

Too right.

I invested because
I run a cleaning firm.

Hamilton promised me the contracts
to Paradise Beach if I did.

40 people lost their jobs
when he went bust

and the bugger
very nearly took me down with him.

Luckily, his wife appears
to have stood by him.

What? HIS marriage
didn't break up, did it?

How the hell did you know...

You have a tan line.

The divorce came through
last week.

Me losing all the money
and the stress of it all, it...

it was the last straw.

Can I ask where you were yesterday?
In my office.

All day? From 8:30am until 7pm.

Witnesses? How many would you like?

One would suffice.

This is the number of Alice, my PA.

She was with me all day.

Thank you.

Well, he lost a fortune.

His business was clearly threatened,
and he lost his wife and son.

Motive enough for me.

Thank you for agreeing to see us.

Well, I'm not sure
what help I can be.

Your husband sailed a yacht around
Saint-Marie, I understand? Yes.

A lot?

I don't know. Yes.

Apparently enough for you to want
to cremate him here. Yes. Yes.

I mean... Sorry,
how is this important?

I won't know that until I have
your answer. So, how many times

did he come sailing here?
Once? Twice? I said I didn't recall.

I see.

I understand you weren't involved
in the Paradise Beach complex.

Not really. I mean,
of course I knew about it,

because Leon would talk about it.
But details?

Business isn't my strong point.

So you wouldn't have any idea
where he'd stash 2 million?

Excuse me?

The amount the bank believe he'd
stolen from the company account.

I would know
if we had that sort of money,

and I can you assure you
we most certainly did not.

Or perhaps he simply
didn't tell you about it.

I'm sorry, I think that's enough.

My husband died only yesterday.

In your care, as I understand it.

So I have no intention of sitting here
listening to you sully his memory.

Despite what you may have heard,
my husband was not a con man.

He may have cut the odd corner.
What businessman doesn't?

But he wanted Paradise Beach to work
as much as everybody.

He was just unlucky. Nothing more.

And whatever his shortcomings,

he certainly didn't deserve
to die for them.

See? See what?
I told you she loved him.

She could just be
a very convincing liar.

But she talked with such passion.

But passion for her dead husband

or passion not to get caught
for being involved in his murder?

The commissioner called in.

He wanted to know if we'd made any
progress in the Leon Hamilton case.

Thank you.

Honore Police Station.

Means, motive and opportunity

are usually difficult to establish,

but here we have them in abundance.

The means... a common blade,

easy enough for anyone to pick up.

Opportunity... despite the fact that
he was a prisoner being transferred,

the boat was crowded,
people bumping into one another,

simple enough for the killer
to find time for a single blow.

As for motive...

half the island
appears to have one.

OK. I'll send an officer round.

Fidel, you'd better get down
to the old market, Cove Lane.

The beggar thief just stole
another purse. No!

But the people on the ferry,
if they had recognised him,

they may have attacked him,
thrown him overboard, even,

but not this.

You're right.
It had to be premeditated.

Whoever killed Leon Hamilton

knew he was going to be
on that ferry.

It was a confined space,
nowhere to hide.

If you couldn't afford to be seen,
what would you do?

Pay someone to do it for me?

Dwayne? Chief?
The man you interviewed earlier,

Samuel King... is he capable of this?
At the right price? Hell, yes.

Then as we appear to have
hit a dead end,

maybe it's time I spoke to him
after all.

Where can I find him?

Mr King?

I'm Detective Inspector
Richard Poole.

As you know,
this is Police Officer Dwayne Myers.

like to ask you a few questions.

I've already spoken to your boy.

Well, now we have
some different questions.

Watch him!


Coming through!

Mr Foster!

It was a few weeks back,
just after my wife left.

I was drunk out of my skull.

I met Samuel King in a bar

and he was boasting about being
a part of the underworld,

a... "fixer", if you like.

And apparently, I asked him
how much it would cost to...

"fix" Leon Hamilton.

He said fifty grand.

God, I was drunk.
It wasn't a serious proposition!

Then why were you sitting with him
and why did you run when you saw us?

Yesterday, he came to the house.
He said that he had done it

and he demanded payment.

My God, I had no idea he was
bloody going to go through with it!

So you paid him?

I wish.

I don't have
that kind of money any more.

I just gave him a few hundred
to make him go away.

And then he came back for more?

He said that if I didn't come here
today with more money...

he would go to the police.

So, what would happen
if I just got up and walked out?

We both know
that isn't going to happen.

I could always leave
a little something behind.

You could say you were distracted.

You know, I really hope you're not
suggesting what I think you are.


No! Just asking a question.

Did you lose him? No, I got him,
but he's in the hospital.

No, I didn't...
I mean, it was his foot.

Samuel King, I'm
arresting you on

suspicion of the murder
of Leon Hamilton.

Gordon Foster said
that you've been demanding money

for carrying out the murder
of Leon Hamilton. Is that right?

Yes. It is.


And I'm sure you have
plenty of contacts

who can inform you of a prisoner
being transferred to another prison.

You think?!

You don't deny being on the ferry?

It seems to me that you are the one
who's asking all of the questions.

I'm just admiring the view.

I'm not.

Did you carry out
the murder of Leon Hamilton,

as you suggested to Mr Foster?
No, I did not.

And yet you demanded money
for doing so, which is blackmail.

Either way, you're going to prison.
The only question is for how long.

He won't testify against me.

He's got no balls.

What happened on that ferry?

I don't remember.

Very well, perhaps a night in a cell

will improve your memory
and your manners.

OK, I don't need a night in here.
Come on, I've not done anything.

All right, look, no messing.

Everything that guy said was true.

OK, sit down.

He came into the bar wasted, started
talking about this Leon Hamilton,

some big shot from Guadeloupe
who'd ruined his life,

and what he'd do to him.
So you offered to murder him?

I was only messing!
It was no big deal.

I thought I might scam
an upfront payment off him.

And then what happened?

Well, nothing.
I'd forgotten all about it

until I'd heard that
Leon Hamilton had been murdered

on the very same ferry that
I'd been on. It was too good to miss!

So you went to Gordon
Foster and told him it

was you in the hope of getting paid.

It was working, too,
until you turned up.

Yeah, I think I know
the guy you're talking about.

Gold chains. Mean-looking guy.
That's him.

Yeah. Yeah, he would get my vote.

Did Leon Hamilton talk about
Saint-Marie when he was in prison?

I'm not sure. Why?

I was wondering
how often he'd been here.

Is it important?

I think so. I'm just, you know,
not really sure why.

Sex and money.

All murders are about sex or money.

I don't want to appear rude,

but, do you mind?

So no new developments, then?
Nothing I should know about?


I could help.

I know the five BRMs off by heart.

The what? BRMs!

Basic rules of murder.

If it's not sex, it's money.
If it's not money, it's sex.

A wife is most likely
to kill a husband.

A husband is most likely
to kill a wife.

And the last person you should discount
should be the one you least suspect.

I've never heard such claptrap
in 23 years of policing.

It's in the November issue
of Murder Monthly.

I don't care. Would you excuse us?
We were having a private conversation.

Very well.

But remember,
if you use your BRMs,

you'll never go far wrong.

I know you're under pressure.

We all are. But would it really be
so hard to just once

be nice?

I'm sorry.

It was very rude.

Yes, it was.

Is that it?

Good. Now, the bank statements

show money being drawn out of the
company account over a period of time

AND from their private account.

You left people
singing Happy Birthday

just to look at bank statements?

Yes, and I've already apologised.
Can we move on?

You are impossible!

Mrs Hamilton withdrew 50,000

from their joint account
three weeks ago.

Wait, wait, wait.

Fifty thousand?

Isn't that what Samuel King
asked Gordon Foster to pay?

The exact amount. Bit of
a coincidence, don't you think?


Sex and money.

Excuse me?

The madwoman was right.
Great motives for murder.

I think we'll go and see Ann

first thing in the morning.

So, are you coming back
to the party?

I won't, if you don't mind.

Early night.

A lot to do tomorrow.

I brought you a slice of cake.

Happy birthday.

I thought you'd forgotten
all about me.

Morning, sir.

Morning, team.

Great party, chief. Looks like it.

I was just going to call you, sir.

Leon Hamilton is being cremated
at 11:30 this morning.

We ran an airline check.

Ann Hamilton has booked the next flight
off the island, the 14:05 to Miami.

It's her, isn't it? Where's Camille?

On her way to Ann Hamilton's hotel.

OK, I'll see her there.

You ready? What?

The beggar thief.
You promised to help me, remember?

That woman I left the party with
last night...

There were two of them.

So I wasn't seeing double!

That's her! The beggar thief.

Stop! Stop!


Wait till I tell your mother.

Police, police! Let me through!

Excuse me.

You don't believe she fell? No.

No more than I believe
it was grief-induced suicide.

But who would kill her?

I think we were on the right trail,
you know?

I think somehow she was involved
in her husband's death.

She must have had an accomplice.

Samuel King is in a cell.

Gordon Foster?

I think if we find out
who killed Mrs Hamilton,

we'll also find out
who killed her husband.

Unlike Leon Hamilton, who had
queues of people wanting him dead,

we just need to work out who
profited from Mrs Hamilton's death.

Let's get you locked up.

Fidel? Yes, sir?
Why is he dressed as a woman?

He's the beggar thief, sir.
But that was a woman.

No, sir, it was Philip. In a dress.

Anything else, sir?

No, no. Thank you, Fidel.

Thank you.
OK, they've cordoned off the room.

Shall I send Dwayne and Fidel over?


No what? That's... That's what?

If... If what?

Where's Vincent? He was
having breakfast at Catherine's bar.

Fidel? Yes, sir? Get Gordon Foster.
Keep him here till I call you.

Understand? Yes, sir. Repeat it.
Get Gordon Foster, keep him here.

Excellent. Go on. What's going on?

I don't know.
I mean, I think I know.

You think?
Well, it's how it works, usually.

I mean, at least,
it's the start of how it works.

You raise a notion,
a thought, a possibility.

Then you bombard it with fact,

with things already established,
to test it.

And if that notion,
however absurd, however outlandish,

well, if it stands up
to that kind of scrutiny,

if it still fits,

if it can't be disproved
by what we already know...

well, I mean, mostly...
not always, but, yeah, mostly...

it's the truth.

Bring Samuel King. Come on!

Richard! I was hoping to see you
before I went.

Then I'm glad not to disappoint.
Have a drink.

No, thank you, still on duty.

So, how was your birthday?
Good, thank you.

You missed your own party. Yes, so I
understand. Still, always next year.


Shall we?

What's going on? Well, I hoped
we might just run through the case.

You don't mind, do you?
Why should I? Why indeed?

You see, this case should have been
the easiest I've dealt with.

I was handcuffed to the victim
when he was murdered, after all.

But in reality, it turned out to be

one of the most confusing.

The murder itself
wasn't particularly baffling.

Audacious? Yes.

Daring? Absolutely.

But then...
Well, it just takes a second

to plunge a blade
into a man's heart.

No, this case has never been
about the how.

It's always been
quite literally about the who.

Samuel King looked like a good bet
to begin with.

Isn't that right, Camille?

Muscle for hire,
a man who claims to be willing

to take another man's life
if the price is right.

You were on that ferry, you could
have plunged a knife into the victim.

You can't prove nothing.

Quite so.
Luckily, we don't have to,

"prove nothing",

because you didn't kill
Leon Hamilton.

You're an opportunist.

I doubt you had the brains
or the audacity for this crime.

You simply saw an opportunity
for a pay day

from disgruntled investor
Gordon Foster

when he stumbled into your bar
by chance.

Look, I really have to go soon.

Not much longer. It will be
worth the wait, I promise.

You see, the key to this case

was to be found
not in the murder of Leon Hamilton

but in the killing of his wife, Ann.

Fidel, can you come over now?

Yes, please. Not only do I believe

that Ann Hamilton was involved
in the first murder,

I also think she had an accomplice,

an accomplice
who did the dirty work,

who, actually carried out
the murder for reward.

And what reward! Not only
Mrs Hamilton herself, of course,

but also the 2 million
she'd helped her husband

hide from the banks
and their creditors.

But a murderer's accomplice
is a very dangerous individual,

particularly when there's money
at the heart of things.

I mean...

once you've crossed that threshold,
why not have it all to yourself?

And that's what you did, wasn't it?


It was you who plunged a blade
into that poor man's heart.

'The time to strike

'was when the ferry hit rough water
as it rounded the point,

'a single strike when
you knew everyone

would be distracted
by having to hold on'

as the boat rolled. I think you have
a very vivid imagination.

Yes, I have.

Without it, I very much doubt
we'd be having this conversation.

There's an old cliche about murder
someone reminded me of recently,

that in the vast majority of murders

the motive's either sex or money.
In this case, it was both.

And there's another cliche.

That if the wife is murdered,

it'll usually be the husband
who is responsible.

Except this time it can't be.
On the contrary, Dwayne...

that's exactly what happened.
What's going on?

It can't be!

But you're dead!

Because this isn't
Vincent the prison guard,

this is Leon Hamilton.

Mr Foster, as the only man
in this room

who's actually met him,

are you sure this is Leon Hamilton?


While in prison,
the real Leon Hamilton

met down-at-heel prison guard
Vincent Carter...

recently divorced, broke, not
much of a future to look forward to.

What was the deal?

50,000 for six months,
to swap places

and serve out the remainder of your
sentence here on Saint-Marie.

The 50,000 taken out
by your wife two weeks ago.

It was easy enough for the real
Vincent to fake your prison records.

He worked in admissions, didn't he?

So after you left the prison
and before you reached the ferry,

you swapped clothes
with the real Vincent Carter.

You knew you were going to kill him,
didn't you?

The master stroke was your wife
coming from Guadeloupe

to identify the body. I'm here.

I thought you'd forgotten
all about me.

In fact, I think you arranged
to meet her last night.

I think you planned
how to spend your ill-gotten gains.

And then she gave you
what you needed, didn't she?

Her signature.
And with it the money.

No need to waste the night.

In the morning,
you threw her to her death.

She also knew that as a keen sailor,
you often sailed around Saint-Marie,

whereas the real Vincent
said he'd never been here before.

And because you were a keen sailor,

you knew how rough the sea got
round the point.

And because the real Vincent wasn't,
he felt seasick straightaway.

But although Vincent Carter
traded places with you,

he was just a smaller part
of the bigger game you were playing.

This was about 2 million
and gaining your freedom,

not just from prison
but also from your wife.

As soon as she identified the wrong
body, she was no longer needed.

She thought the two of you
were in this together.

She was looking forward to your
reunion, not suspecting for a second

that you did all of this
in order to kill her.

It was to be the perfect murder.

After all...

how could a dead man
kill his own wife?

Made you look pretty stupid,
though, didn't I?

Yeah. You did.

And please feel free
to continue gloating

your double life sentence.


Actually, it was Fidel
who cracked the case.

Me? Absolutely.

Your beggar thief,
the old woman that never was.

Without her,

or, him, as it turned out,

I'd never have made the leap.

That was quite something.

Thank you.



I see you got someone, then?

So, what was it? Sex? Or money?

Both. Thought so.

BRM. Never fails.

You don't want to know.

Well, I think we should celebrate,

as you missed your own birthday party
last night.

Cracking idea!

Actually, I'm a little
bit tired. Been up all night.

And one or two things to do. So,
why don't I meet you back here?

If you don't,
we'll come and find you!

Absolutely. We mean it. Bye!

Look, he's got his cake!

No! What are you doing?

OK, go, go.

Happy birthday, sir.

OK. Here we go.

There you are!

- Cheers. To the chief.
- Cheers!

What if someone sees us together?
Excuse me?

You haven't told her yet, have you?

Are you OK to dive?


We've just pulled a body out
of the water. Not an accident.

Detective Sergeant Angela Young.
She will be your senior officer.

The inspector isn't here,
is he, Freddie? I am.

She told me to be honest.
When women tell

you to be honest,
they don't mean it!

Well, what sense does that make?

What's the problem??
No problem, sir.

What you doing?

Stop! Police!